Chapter 2 – Guard Duty

I was always terrible at making friends. Even now at lunch, I sit at the end of a crowded table staring at my lukewarm food as I pushed it around with my fork. Protein, vegetable, and carbohydrate all drowned in Tabasco sauce to hide the somewhat terrible flavor.

That's when I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Gale, leave me alone," I say, brushing it off.

"Not quite, princess." I roll my eyes and brush the returned hand off my shoulder again. "You look at me when I'm talking to you, little girl."

Cato's voice was grave, but I continued eating. I wouldn't let him see me crack, especially in this room full of onlookers. "Could you go bother someone else, I'd like to get my food in me before it gets colder," I say, adding more hot sauce. I bring my fork to my face before my head is tugged back by my braid.

"Listen little lady, you think you can waltz right in here and boss me around?" Cato doesn't let up. I drop my fork reaching for his hand, though he threatens to rip the hair out of my head.

"No, I know I can get sent here, outrank you, and tell you what to do," I sneer, clawing at his grabby hands. I look up and see his dark eyes, lustful and hungry. I was a challenge to him; a challenge he didn't get with Clove or Glimmer, I guess.

"Private!" a threatening voice scolds not far from me, "Is there a problem here?"

"Just teaching the little girl the ropes around here," he says and releases my hair, each and every follicle burning from the torment, "Corporal."

"So that means assaulting your commanding officer? Do you want to see how well that will go for you?"

He grunts, but I refuse to look up just yet. "She wouldn't snitch on me, sir." Cato doesn't say anything else, just grabs my shoulders again and squeezes them before walking away. I sigh and go back to my food, hoping the gawkers will do the same and the Corporal leaves. No such luck, however, as I see the chair next to me move and become occupied. I shiver a little, trying to get rid of the heebie jeebies Cato had given me.

"Thanks," I say, before looking up into the concerned blue eyes of Peeta Mellark. "Corporal Mellark…"

He smiles faintly, "Well…you don't have to say it like that. And you should report Cato to the brass. Major Abernathy doesn't take that kind of behavior lightly."

I slouch over and finish my food. "No, that will just make me look weak. There are other ways of punishing someone." I slide the edge of my fork across the bottom of my plate, cleaning off every bit of gravy and hot sauce.

"Geez, Everdeen, you eat like you'll never see food again," he remarks. I turn to look at him, really look at him, hoping the shock doesn't leave my face. Maybe he doesn't remember. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate, after…" he stutters.

"No, it was fine," I say, standing up. "I'm assuming you're on guard with me tonight, so I'll see you then." I threw out my trash and walked out of the mess hall. I will not cry, I tell myself over and over.

Sleep came to me easily once I drew the blinds and locked my door. I set my alarm for 1700, giving myself an hour to get in my uniform. Since women out here were few and far between, I wouldn't have a roommate. No one would question why I was sleeping the day away, or intrude on my few hours of uninterrupted slumber.

I woke up in a pool of my own drool and begrudgingly pick myself up off the thin mattress I'd be spending the next six months on. If they sent me into combat, I'd spend twelve hours at a time in a sitting position waiting for my target, the other twelve either curled up in a corner with my partner, or in a group tent sleeping on a cot or a hammock. I had never shot or killed a human before. This was something that made me nervous, but I had to remind myself that I was doing it to protect her. To protect Prim.

I tuck my pants into my boots, lacing them up tightly and pick up my bulletproof vest. Sweet, heavy Kevlar that honestly wouldn't protect me much against a sniper's round, but a .22 would feel like a firm punch. Normally Kevlar isn't necessary for guard duty on base, but as my paper said, "Snipers in the area" meant the whole nine yards.

I sling my jacket over my shoulder after putting on my dog-tags, just in case. I still had about twenty minutes before I had to be at command, so they could tell me I would basically be spending the next six months on guard duty because they didn't think a female sniper could deliver. I sit down on my bed, feeling more alone than ever before in this desert surrounded by jarheads.

"I don't want to worry you, but I really miss you…" I tell Prim's picture. "Remember all the nights I came home from work angry because my division couldn't take me seriously?" I sigh, "This is worse than that because there's actually people's lives on the line…" I huff, tucking her picture safely back into the webbing of my helmet.

Time to go to command… As I walk through the halls, it was rumored that a General was on base today, just what I wanted to deal with.

I push open the door to the very air conditioned room. "Ah, Sergeant Everdeen!" I hear someone say. Most of my battalion was seated around the table. I only knew the Major in passing, with short brown hair and a five o'clock shadow. If it wasn't for his rank, he'd be held down and shaved clean.

"Major Abernathy, sir!" I'll admit I gave a half-assed salute as I took an empty seat next to a red-headed man, Major Odair. At my presence, he shifted uneasily towards the tiny woman next to him.

"Good evening, 74th," Abernathy intones, "I'm glad you all could make it." I scan the table. Though the Major was speaking, everyone's eyes were on me. "First and foremost," he continues, "I hope you can all understand our decision to keep you out of combat for a few weeks, at least until you're better acquainted with your new Sergeant." He turns to address me. "Perhaps you'd like to introduce yourself?"

I groan a little and stand. "My name is Staff Sergeant Katniss Everdeen. I was born in the small mountain town of Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, just like Corporal Mellark. I trained at Lejeune just like many of you, and after that I decided I wanted to become a sniper." I heard a small chuckle, since women weren't trained as snipers, but continued on. "Yeah, I had to fight for that, but I passed, then passed my counter-sniper training," I heard a murmur. My eyes found Cato, who continued looking at me like I was a piece of meat. "I've spent the first few years of my contract in DC, sitting up in the rafters whenever someone was making a speech."

I sit back down, figuring I'd said enough. They didn't need to know about why I chose to come to Iraq, because to be honest, even I wasn't sure why I volunteered. I found myself in the same land where my father was captured, tortured and returned to us in a sealed casket after his prison camp was liberated.

Abernathy spoke again, "Since there seems to be some opposition to your new commanding officer, we're expecting to see you all out doing PT. Remember, it gets to be one hundred twenty here, so early mornings are the best time." The major slid a roster in my direction, "For scheduling guard duty and their room assignments to make sure they're in line," Abernathy says as he smirks at me. "You're all dismissed, except for Everdeen and Mellark."

"One second," I lean over to Peeta and ask quietly, "You could do a few hours of PT after guard duty, right?" He nods.

"Mellark and I get off guard duty at oh seven hundred. Be at the obstacle course by oh seven fifteen, ready to sweat!" I bark and they all groaned. "You're all dismissed!" Peeta took the roster from me and began writing on it as Odair and Abernathy began whispering to each other.

"As you may or may not know, this battalion was bound for Baghdad before they suffered heavy losses. Now we still intend to send you there, but not until you all know how to work together. We're not sending some dumb kids into a warzone especially when they're too busy worrying that they're officer is a woman," Abernathy begins.

"You have an impressive résumé, Sergeant… set all the records at Lejeune, but missed the long shot by fifty yards…" Major Odair comments as he flips through my file.

Abernathy propped his dusty boots on the table, "Wait… Everdeen… are you Abraham's kid?" I suck in air and nod through gritted teeth. "He was part of my company… Good man," I nod again, but I think he was expecting me to speak.

"Yeah, my mother didn't take it too well," I lament. He nods, taking the sheet from Peeta and letting out a loud chuckle.

"Gimme that," he says, taking the pen and writing something on the paper. "Here you go, Sarge, everything you need to know about the 74th Battalion…"

I snatch the paper away from him; Peeta had written a few notes next to the names:

PFC Daniel Cato – Self-proclaimed "ladies man", quite possibly mentally ill.

Pvt Lisa Clove – Impressive with a knife, ninja division?

PFC Jacob Marvel – "Sniper extraordinaire"

LCprl Annie Cresta – Deceptively non-threatening

PFC Dina Glimmer - Most likely to be found in Cato's bed

The last was written in Abernathy's handwriting.

Cprl Peeta Mellark – Speaks five languages, only one who bothers to not make us look like a bunch of blood thirsty assholes.

"Five languages?" I ask, impressed. I could only speak English, though they had been trying to teach me Arabic.

"Yep - Farsi, Arabic, French, Spanish, English… plus, I'm learning Mandarin," he said proudly as my jaw dropped. "Speaking of which, when do you think we'll get back into town? Rue's going to be done the book I gave her last time."

"Rue?" I ask.

He picks his helmet up off the table and pulls a picture out of the webbing. "Here," he says, handing it to me. The photo was worn around the edges, but felt oh so precious. Normally, a Marine in full combat uniform was threatening, but he was crouched next to a beaming dark skinned girl. "Her mom was killed in the crossfire, but her dad's surprisingly forward thinking. He caught me teaching her how to read one day and just grinned, saying that it was about time someone gave his daughter a chance to make something of herself."

I found myself wondering why he didn't have a picture of his family in there. I lean over and notice a picture of a large mutt. It was cute, dumb dog eyes full of love, with a smooth, rust-colored coat and a large tongue.

"You won't be back there for a good two weeks. I can deliver something to her if you want, we're going out there in two days." Odair says and Mellark nods at him, grinning.

"I told her about To Kill a Mockingbird. It was the book I used to get familiar with the language." They seem to have forgotten about me, so I continue reading the roster. Cato was the one relieving Peeta and I at 0700, that would have to change…

"Mellark, could you show me to Cato's room?" I ask. "I need to tell him we're moving his guard duty to later in the day…"

"I can have Hawthorne fill in, he's been working that shift," Odair tells me, and I nod.

"1500?" I ask. Guard shifts were eight hours, so three in a day. You couldn't leave your post until the next person came to relieve you. Most jobs were at a tower or guarding a door. Since we were technically officers, Peeta and I had the privilege of patrol.

"Yeah yeah, I'll be sure to tell him."

Abernathy was watching me intently, this was do or die time. The time when I made my mark on the USMC, and surely my Major would be watching my every move.

"No need, I have time to tell both of them. I'm sure you have something more important to do besides dealing with guard schedules." I say, earning a grin from Major Odair.

"Smart kid, you're both dismissed."

Peeta and I walk in silence back to the dormitories. I read each name plate on the door until I found Gale's, knocking loudly. "Hawthorne! Put your pants back on and open the door!" I yell through the thick wood. I heard stumbling before a disheveled Gale Hawthorne opened the door. His computer was open and I could see a woman's face, laughing.

"The nerve of you, boy," I scold him. "I need a favor… Guard duty from 0700 to 1500?" He was blushing deeply and I'm not sure he fully heard me. "Gale?" I ask in a sing-song voice, trying to pull him back to reality.

"Yeah yeah, sure, why though?"

"PT, can't do it midday and one of my privates has duty that shift," I say, leaning on the door frame and crossing my arms.

"Sounds good. Now… is there anything else, Catnip, or can I go back to my nap?"

I roll my eyes and begin putting my jacket on. "Sure, Gale… your 'nap'. Nice meeting ya, Jo… kind of." Gale backs up and closes the door in my face.

"Huh…" Peeta starts and leads me to Cato's room. "Here I thought you and Gale were together, just not official because… you know." The brass tended to separate married couples. This was mostly because if the woman got pregnant, it was a loss of man power and a waste of money since they'd have to fulfill their own contract and their fill in's.

"Oh no, Gale's my best friend from back home. Why, do we look like a couple?" I ask in the most love struck voice I could muster, which being me was not much.

"Nah, just after school and everything… everyone thought you two would end up hitched, then you up and enlisted." I shiver a little at his response. Gale was basically my brother.

Peeta pounds on Cato's door, "Private, open up!" His voice was deep and full of command, nothing like the kind eyes he always wore.

A shirtless Cato opens the door, and a disheveled Clove sits blushing on the bed. Wonderful…

"Oh, Sarge, looks like I can't make it to your PT! I have guard duty in the AM," he informs me in a smug voice.

"Not anymore. Major Odair saw the importance of us all being in attendance, so we swapped your shift with Hawthorne." He snapped his jaw closed and slammed the door in our faces. "Bitch!" he hisses.

I just shrug in return, "Let's do this… Show me the ropes, Mellark."

We put on our helmets and were issued our rifles. "Wait, this isn't mine…" I mumble, looking over the brand new stock and barrel. "Where's mine? The one I came here with?" I checked the scope, it was all wrong!

"There was damage to yours; it needed a new scope and barrel." I huff in return and sling it over my shoulder.

"All wrong!" I grumble, checking the scope again and again. It was adjusted for a man, who never had to worry about his breasts getting in the way. It took me days to get my scope perfect, then in four hours they ruined it.

"We have like twenty before we have to relieve the people at our post… firing range?" Peeta suggests, holding out a screwdriver.

I load a magazine into my rifle. The sound of it clicking into place used to send chills down my spine - a marvel of modern engineering snapping perfectly into place with little to no resistance. But right now, I was too angry to appreciate it.

Apparently, my reputation preceded me. As I assume the standing shooting position, people stopped moving. I fire one shot, missing the kill zone by a few shameful inches. I let out another grumble and began adjusting. A second shot, and I was doing better. Hit the kill zone, even though I never shot from standing - always sitting or lying. There were long tables faced for seated shooting, but that was basically like standing. Instead, I moved the table long ways and laid down.

I heard the murmurs already. Female shooter? Laying down? The farthest target out was 500 yards, an easy shot for me.

I pull back the bolt, my spent casing falling to the ground, only making small adjustments before double tapping the trigger. Right in the kill zone!

I give a smug smile before rolling off the table. "Good enough," I say to Mellark as I put the safety back on my gun and sling it over my shoulder. "I was off a little," I grin at his slack jaw.

"We all make mistakes," he says, throwing his arm over my shoulder. I didn't shy away from the gesture, since he felt friendly enough.

The people at our post seem relieved to leave. Apparently, there had been a sniper located in the mountains. Wonderful…

Our patrol turned into a tour as Peeta showed me the makeshift hospital, the mess hall, and a basketball court covered in a thick layer of sand.

"We had a dust storm not too long ago," he explains. "No one ever bothered to sweep it off because it'll just get covered again." There were a few shirtless men shooting from the outer circle, every bounce of the ball kicking up dust.

I took a sip from my canteen offering some to Peeta, but he brushed it off. "Listen, I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable earlier, you know…" We had stopped walking; this was our post until we had to patrol the perimeter again.

"Don't. Because you're right, I eat like I'll never see food again because I knew if I didn't find it, kill it, or grow it myself, I wasn't getting any because my flighty mother shut off after my pops…" I stop myself and kick up some dust. "So… Marine? I thought you would go straight to a big school and make your Mom and Dad proud…" I ask, trying to change the subject.

He shrugs, drinking from his own canteen now. "By the time my brothers went through, Mom and Dad were out of funds. So I joined up figuring it was peace time; that they wouldn't send me anywhere bad. I always kind of wanted to serve my country. Then nine eleven happened and I basically begged to be sent to Afghanistan…" he finishes and pulls out two meal bars. They were supposed to taste like chocolate and have enough calories to be a meal, but had a chalky texture. Peeta handed one to me and tore into the other. "That was my first tour. When I came home, Mom and Dad looked at me like I was a stranger. Their innocent little boy had gone off to war," he says and chews on his nail. "I stayed with them for a few months before being sent here and I've been here ever since." I nod.

"You?" he asks.

"I want to make my Dad proud…" I start, chewing methodically on my bar. "Mom nearly went grey when I told her. She thinks I'm going to have the same fate as her husband…" I say, laughing a little. "Prim's graduating high school soon, though we keep moving her around, first from Pennsylvania to Maryland, and now North Carolina." I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

"So you're the man of the house?" he jokes, nudging me a little.

"Sure, I guess so…" I say, brushing some hair behind my ear. "So what about you? Is there any special lady waiting for you back home?"

He let out a short laugh, washing the dense bar down with more water. "Yeah, there was this one girl. I've had my eye on her since the first day of school when we were five. Sang like a songbird… but I was too scared to make friends with her. When she got older, everyone assumed she had a guy," he shrugs. "So I left her alone, still too afraid to talk to her. Oh well," he shrugs again and spits on the ground.

"When you get back, you should call her. Every girl loves a Marine!"

He laughs and nudges me again, "I'll think about it, Everdeen…"